Hope? Is that you?

I can't believe I haven't written since June, but I also can't believe it is March again already, and yet... here we are.

This was the year everyone got to learn what anxiety felt like, and those of us who already knew went into hyperdrive.  With so much unknown and so much pain and fear, the COVID-19 pandemic threw us all for a loop.

And then there was the news - accessible 24/7 on your TV and your phone. Always full of new information about death tolls and hospital capacities...  Graphs, charts and infographics of death and despair.  

Sometimes doesn't it feel like the people producing the news have been coached by your anxiety?  

Examples:

Hospitalizations are down in Place A!     They're on the rise in Place B.  

Good news about Vaccine A!  Here is what could go wrong with Vaccine A.

Numbers are trending down in this area!  Prepare for another surge.

Any good news always has a counterpoint - someone saying maybe things won't actually be okay.  There are always multiple people willing to voice the worst case scenarios and many acting like they are the most likely outcomes.  Sometimes, it's like your anxiety came to life and got on CNN and Facebook.

With the constant ability to access news, and the updates that appear unbidden on social media or through news alerts, this barrage can become like a physical manifestation of intrusive thoughts - unstoppable, negative and overwhelming.

Now we obviously have to take this pandemic seriously, but I think we have gotten to a place where it is safe to be... Dare I say it?  Cautiously optimistic.

Just today Biden announced that the timeline for availability has been pushed up and all adult Americans should be able to get a vaccine by the end of May.  And Johnson & Johnson hopes to manufacture a BILLION doses by 2022.

My mom was just able to schedule her vaccine.  My grandmother and two of my bosses have completed both shots.  Things are moving forward.

We all have to try and walk the line between staying necessarily informed and going down the rabbit hole of negative news.  When electronics are off, they're not very attractive to look at, but they're also less likely to intrude on your sense of peace.  

We still have to take steps to be safe, and the world won't be healed tomorrow, but there is light at the end of the tunnel.  Don't let the negative news cycle snuff that light out for you.  As we continue this pandemic marathon, I wish you all good health and inner peace.  

I'm Not Finishing This Book: Toxic Perfectionism Challenge

Growing up, I never read a lot outside of school because reading gave me a lot of anxiety.  

It was okay. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I would worry when I was assigned something to read that I hadn't read it completely or correctly.  I developed the compulsion to re-read and re-read because I was so concerned that I was lying about having read the assignment.  

To say I had actually done the reading, I felt like I had to carefully read every word.  At least once, my re-reading got so bad that I had to have my mom read out loud to me just so I could get through the assigned chapters.

As an adult, even as an English tutor, I'm rarely forced to read things anymore. I've actually gotten to enjoy reading some books for fun!  The lying concern doesn't have to play a role in pleasure reading.  However, I still can fall plague to this sense of toxic perfectionism in other ways.  

Even though nobody is giving me assignments anymore, I am currently feeling a sense of commitment to finish a book I have started.  I can think of a few books from the past that I quit, but this is a weird quirk issue that has become a problem recently. 

Probably over a year ago now, I started reading The Night Stalker by Philip Carlo.  I am a true crime fan, and I got through the beginning of the book pretty quickly.  The story is very interesting and the book is well written... but I ultimately became super disinterested during the long trial section.  I like reading about trials normally, but the way this one is presented, it just seems to drag on and on.  I'm on Page 340 of 447 and the idea of 100 more pages just seems like torture.

So, instead of quitting the book like a normal person, I've just gone back to not reading for fun.  I let the book sit in my nightstand. I brought it on a recent weekend getaway and carried its heavy weight in my bag.  On a random night, I might read a few pages, kidding myself that I'm finally going to finish...but I'm not even connected to the story at this point.  I don't remember who is who anymore.  So, night after night, the book waits.

During my The Night Stalker imprisonment, I did read a novel assigned at the college where I tutor (because I had to), but I haven't been able to do any pleasure reading.  There are other books that I actually want to read, but I haven't been able to because I am in the middle of this one.  I'm committed. I have a duty. 

This is nuts!

So, tonight, I'm going to start reading a different book.  Life is too short to be held back by some vague sense of anxiety disguised as something more honorable like dedication.  Not everything must be perfectly executed.  Not everything deserves your time and energy.  I will triumph over The Night Stalker.  

I hope that as you move into the new year, you can also find ways to leave behind any useless sense of obligation you have to the insignificant trivialities that anchor you down.  Here's to starting a new chapter. 💗

Practicing Gratitude

My heroes.

One of the best exercises my therapist recommended to me was a fairly simple one:  Take time every day to think about what you're thankful for.

It's a nice way to get out of your negative headspace.  Sometimes it's so easy to focus on the negative: on the mean things people have said, on the work that isn't done, on the goals that aren't being met.  Whether it's anxiety or depression (or both) getting you down, when you're in a negative tailspin, it's hard to remember how much is actually going right.  

Some days are easier than others.  Any day you see a puppy in a costume is an easy day to think of joy.  Holidays and special events are easy too.  But even on a bad day, there are still small silver linings if you look for them.  On the days that are the hardest and saddest, it still helps to try and pull a few tiny pieces of positive out of the muck.

Some people write a gratitude journal, but I hate seeing my own handwriting.  I knew if I tried a journal I would just avoid the exercise rather than look at my chicken scratch.  Instead, I pulled my husband in for accountability and we do the exercise verbally, each taking turns saying three things we are grateful for each day before we go to bed.

The exercise has shown me how small changes can make a difference.  At first, it seemed like a silly, throw away exercise, but actively taking the time to concretely verbalize the positive really does help lift my mood.  Bedtime is a particularly anxious time, and it's nice to end the day on a good note.

I also think sharing the exercise has made it even better.  Sometimes my husband and I share the same highs, and sometimes they're different.  It's fun to see day to day what stands out to each of us.

Whether you suffer from anxiety or not, I recommend throwing this into your routine.  If you like to write, write them out.  If you prefer to type, type them.  Share the exercise with your spouse or your child.  If you live alone,  I still think it might be a fun exercise to share with a friend - promise to text each other each night with your top three moments.

With exercises like this, I think the most important thing to keep in mind is not to get down on yourself if you fall off the wagon.  Forgetting for a night, a week, or even a month doesn't mean you have to abandon the process.  Every attempt is a triumph - an active step away from toxic negativity.  If you slip up, you can always try again tomorrow.  This is one assignment that won't be graded, and that's just one more thing to be grateful for.

8 Reasons I Cried During Disney's Aladdin

Cue the water works.

I have been transitioning off of my OCD/anxiety medication, and to say it has been an emotional roller coaster would be an understatement.  

I experience waves of feelings with such intensity that it overwhelms me.  Unfortunately, a lot of these feelings are also negative - from anger to profound sadness.

Well, I saw the live action remake of Disney's Aladdin while in the middle of this transition period.  The original Disney classic came out in 1992 when I was three and was very important to me as a little girl.  With all the nostalgia about to ensue, the situation was ripe for a breakdown.

And the breakdown was real.  So much crying.  Overt sobs at one point.  Don't get me wrong, the movie was beautiful, but I was also in a state.  Nostalgia is hard, but it's even harder without medicine.  

Please note the SPOILER ALERT here if somehow you are not familiar with the Aladdin story.  (Also, please go and watch the classic cartoon immediately and then go see the remake!)  Here, for your viewing pleasure, I've compiled a list of reasons that an emotionally unstable, anxious, unmedicated 29-year-old woman cried during a Disney movie remake.

Pre-Film 

1.  The Music in the Lion King Trailer  (Hans Zimmer got me.  Also just the idea of Mufasa.)

2.  The Walt Disney World Commercial (Being at Disney was so wonderful.  My family is the best family.  What if I don't get to go again?  When did I get so old?  I don't want to get old.  I don't want my parents to get old.)

The Film Begins

3.  The start of "Friend Like Me" (Will Smith is trying his best but Robin Williams will never be matched.  And now he's gone and that light in the world won't be repeated.)

4.  Jasmine is perfect looking.  (How can someone be that beautiful?  I'm getting old.  Why am I not that beautiful?  All I wanted when I was little was to be Jasmine.  Imagine what an honor to actually play that dream role.)

5.  Aladdin pretends to fall off the balcony on to the magic carpet.  ("A Whole New World" is about to be sung.  I'm not ready.)

6.  "A Whole New World"  (I am not ready. Overtly sobbing through the whole thing and barely seeing any of the actual footage.)

7.  Aladdin sets the genie free. (What a nice thing to do.  Imagine what it would it feel like to be free for the first time.)

8.  Aladdin and Jasmine get married. (They're in love and it's a wedding and it's beautiful.)

I realized stepping away from it that most of these are ridiculous tear triggers that my anxiety and emotions just took off with (Obviously not Mufasa.  Always cry for Mufasa).  I hope that this is a temporary issue and that things will balance out.  

For now, I am lucky that I have a family of saints who are able to find humor in the situation and take it in stride.  Sitting between my husband and my mom in that movie theatre, I had support on both sides and hands to hold - and they only laughed at me a little.  Sometimes, when the emotions get too intense, that's the triumph: we just have to laugh.

Ninety Percent Sure

Read: Risk VERY VERY Small

A few weeks ago, after so much waiting, a number of anxious phone calls and a spout of me crying in a small hospital room, we finally got the results of the pre-pregnancy genetics tests back.

On the test that screened for over 200 potential genetic problems, we discovered that Nathan and I are each carriers for one disease.  However, since it is not the same disease, the risk that we have an infected child is 1/4,400 (0.0227%) for one of the diseases and t 1/3,520 (0.0284%) for the other. 

As for the other genetic test for Nathan, the results came back with a 90% chance that he doesn't have the disease.  Combined with the fact that he doesn't meet the clinical criteria, the doctor felt pretty confident that he does not have it.  However, he did say that they could be even more sure if they compared the results with a blood test from a family member.

Now, this is where I feel I really had a triumph over my OCD tendencies.  Something I struggle with that is very common with OCD and anxiety is that I find it very hard to live with any doubt.  OCD feeds on doubt, and so you want to be 100% sure of everything.  This can lead to all sorts of unhealthy behaviors from checking and rechecking to unhealthily obsessing over horrible possibilities that have only a small remote chance of either being true or becoming true.

You have a feeling that somehow you will be on the wrong side of statistics.  If there's a 97% chance that something is good, it is very easy for someone with OCD like mine to focus on that lingering 3%.  The most ridiculous part is that this fixation on small chances and the feeling that the unlikely occurrence is sure to happen only acts up when considering improbable bad outcomes.  

For example, if someone told me there was a 2% chance I would die tomorrow, I would be very uncomfortable.  I would spend the whole day thinking I was going to hit that 2%.  I wouldn't feel any safety in the 98% chance that I would be okay - I would feel doomed.  But, if it was reversed and someone told me there was a 98% chance I would to die tomorrow, I wouldn't focus on the 2% chance of survival and feel a lot of hope.  It isn't about a misunderstanding of how numbers or chances work as much as constantly fearing the worst while also expecting it as unavoidable.

But when we got these results, I was satisfied.   The odds from the overall couples' screening were clearly astronomically small, but I even feel good about the 90% assurance on Nate's major test.  I heard the results and didn't want to keep digging.

I know we can never with 100% certainty prove the negative.  Even comparing the results to a family member's results, the doctor admits that they still could not make a 100% guarantee.  The truth is that seeking any assurance higher than 90% won't really make me feel any safer.  Starting a family means accepting a lot more risk in my life.  I know by now that the OCD fears and worries aren't going to magically disappear, but accepting these results and feeling good about moving forward was a step in the right direction.  

So, here's to moving forward even when you're only 90% sure.  Sometimes, that's the best thing to do. :)

OCD and Puppy Parenthood

My perfect Luke & Lily.

On November 4th, my husband and I adopted two adorable puppies from PAWS (Public Animal Welfare Society).  Born in August, Luke and Lily are a mix of Shiba Inu, Pug, and Pomeranian.  They are a brother and sister from the same litter, and they are so cute it hurts.

What I've learned in a little over a month?  Puppy parenting is hard for anyone. Specifically though, puppy parenting is an OCD Nightmare.  Examples:

• My house is now a pee house.  They pee and poop where they please while learning to go outside.  
• I worry that I'm not doing right by them. What if I'm not being a good enough mommy?  I feel guilt and hate myself for things like sleeping in.
• I double checked the lock (I'm not even a lock checker usually) when I left the house because I know my babies are in the house.
• I feel guilt when I get angry or upset or frustrated at them.  I judge and worry about any thoughts I have about the puppies that I label as "bad."
• I feel guilt or worry if I tugged at their leashes too hard or picked them up and hurt them. 
• I won't let them have stick treats in their cage when we leave because I'm worried they'll choke.  Their safety is now a big concern.

Even given all of these things, I wouldn't trade my puppies for the world.  OCD attacks what you care about, but you can't let it take away what you love most.  Avoiding having puppies would only let the OCD win and let the fears maintain their power.  Having these puppies may challenge me every day, but I know that the exposure is making me stronger.  I know that each day I fight through I am better off than the day before.  

I hope other people struggling with the same types of fears are also able to work through and grow rather than live a life without dogs.  Dogs are so pure and kind - They remind us of what is really important: family, food, and naptime.

A world without dogs, even without anxiety, would not be a happy world for me.  Luke and Lily are my triumph, and I will work to get through my anxieties so I can be there for them.  Being their mom is one of the greatest privileges of my life.  I know it will make me a better person.

Plus, naps with puppies are even better than naps alone. 

The Midas Touch

My hubby recently had to get an oil change and it reminded me of this amazing situation that occurred right before our wedding. Amid all the wedding planning chaos, I didn't get to write about it then, but it is definitely worth sharing.

Wedding planning is stressful, and when you are trying to process the gravity of the step you're about to take, balance the emotions associated it, work three different jobs with three different schedules, and go about necessary errands... it isn't always easy to stay calm, cool and collected.

Healing cars and hearts.

Different needs tend to collide at once, and I found myself with a car that needed a check-up and very little time to do it.  After much stressing over scheduling, by some miracle I found a time to setup to check in at our local Midas.

And then I learned that I wasn't going to be able to make the appointment.

This was the moment I cracked.  Between stress and anxiety and a jam packed schedule, I had reached my overwhelm limit and started crying: drunk-sorority-girl-at-a-frat-party-who-just-got-dumped level crying.

So, naturally, I decided it was fine in this state to call and cancel my appointment with Midas.

I picked up my cell phone and dialed, letting the man at the end of the line know that I was extremely sorry, but I couldn't bring in my car today because something had come up.  It is unclear how much of this message really got across clearly because crying Laura is an incomprehensible hot mess.

I will never forget the way he reacted.

He let me know that it was no problem.  Then, with genuine concern in his voice, he asked me if everything was okay.  He said that I sounded really upset and if I needed to talk, I could feel free to stop by Midas and he would be happy to talk about whatever it was.

I reassured him that I would be fine, and as I hung up I already felt somewhat better from finding this unlikely ally.  

As women, we are generally taught that other women will be our strongest emotional support.  Whether we like it or not, in America women are raised to express emotions and empathy while we rear men for independence.   As a culture, men are taught to hold back their feelings: "Boys don't cry."  With this mindset, it is common to see men who have no idea how to react to a woman in tears and are very off-put by intense emotional displays. 

But, in that moment, here was this man...and this wasn't even just an average man.  This was a man's man: the kind who works on cars for a living.  And yet, here he was, recognizing suffering in a stranger and trying to offer some sort of comfort, not wanting to let me off of the phone until he felt sure that I was okay.

It was unexpected in the most refreshing way to see someone who was that traditionally masculine who still had developed emotional sensitivity.  It would be great if our culture moved more in this direction, not only for the sake of supporting women but also for the mental health of our men, who should feel free to explore their emotions and communicate about feelings without judgement or ridicule.

When I told my fiancé (now husband) the story, we both had to laugh that I had become so hysterical that even the man at Midas was like, "Someone needs to help this person."  However, I hope that someday we live in a world where this is the norm, where both men and women can recognize strangers in crisis and try to do their little bit to help.  A world where mental health stigma has been replaced with understanding and empathy.  That would certainly be a triumph.

Meanwhile, I will remain a customer of Midas for life.  

Death Tacos

I'm not much of a cook.

My chef when I'm away from home!

I just never really needed to be before.  But, now that I'm a married lady, I decided it was high time to learn.

The big problem is that at the moment I work long hours (like 9:30 am to 7:00 pm) and sometimes come home pretty late.  Enter the magic of the slow cooker.  I can prepare in the morning and it is ready to go when I get home.  Perfect.

Well, it should have been anyway.  But last week on Thursday morning while I was trying to put together a recipe for beef tacos, I realized we didn't have a can opener for the Roma tomatoes.  

I had to open the can with a juice can opener, stabbing around the edges.  I was horrified that there might be basically pieces of shrapnel metal in this beef.  What if somehow a piece fell in and then Nate's throat got sliced open?

I then told my mom about the recipe and she (the queen of all things OCD kitchen related) asked if I had put enough water in the slow cooker.

I hadn't put any water in.  I even poured the water out of the tomatoes can.  The recipe didn't ask for water.

My mom now informed me while I was on the way to work that I may burn the house down.

Great.  So now I have to worry about the metal and a fire.

At this point, mom put the icing on the OCD cake and asked, "Did you check the date on the beef?"

Of course, I hadn't.  My OCD has not developed well in the kitchen arena, mainly because I haven't been in the kitchen that much.  Now I was on alert though.  These tacos risked internal bleeding, fire, and food poisoning.

Should we even eat them?

Mom, too horrified to hold back and without being asked, actually came to my house and put water in the slow cooker.  So, when I arrived home that night, our house was very much not on fire.  At this point, I had to make a choice about the other risks.  

Do we eat the tacos or not?

I warned Nate about the metal, but (in what I consider a triumph) we decided to go forward with the meal.  

And you know what?  Those tacos were so good, we each had three.

I am happy to report that we have both survived the incident and I feel a step closer to tackling OCD in the kitchen.  Small victories are still worth celebrating.

Poetry & Mental Health

As an English major, I always enjoyed poetry - the way wordplay and rhythm can come together to make you smile, hurt, laugh and cry. Poetry often focuses on emotion, giving it a natural connection to mental health. Poems are such a unique way to connect with the experiences of the poet, and they can articulate feelings you may have trouble expressing yourself.  It can also be cathartic for the authors, as writing poetry becomes a type of therapy. (For more information on the therapeutic benefits of writing, check out this article from the American Psychological Association.)  

Recently, I came across two poetry books by Cleveland authors that delve into the gamut of human emotions: Angeline Walsh's Bad Psychiatry: and Other Aptly Themed Poems and Eric Dettelbach's Lyrics for Lucid Dreamers.  As a disclaimer, I am not being paid by either author to discuss these books.

Walsh is a young woman who contacted me after finding my OCD blog on Facebook.  Many of her poems touch on the pain of mental illness, but she also has poems that focus on hope and happiness.  Written over years (she told me that one of my favorite pieces, "Weathering it All," was written when she was just seventeen), her poems reflect the ups and downs of life.  While some were clearly written from a dark place, others reflect a joy of spirit.  

Dettelbach's book is not directly focused on mental health, but like Walsh's touches on the emotional highs and lows that come with moving through life.  He is actually a coworker of mine, and I helped him type up years of notes to put together his book.  It was interesting to see the different tones from poem to poem, again ranging from despair to delight.  His focus on relationships - from romantic encounters to the experience of adopting a dog - highlighted just how much our connections with others can impact how we feel and who we become.

Though these authors lead very different lives (different genders, ages, marital statuses), they share so much.  It's easy when we are going through a tough time or having a mental health issue to feel so alone.  I'm so glad there are writers out there putting their feelings into words and sharing these experiences that show how alike we all are.  We see their pain, but we also see their perseverance and growth.

Publishing a book - especially a collection of personal poems - takes guts. Letting yourself be vulnerable isn't easy, and I applaud them both for the triumph of putting themselves out there. 

A Perfect Wedding Weekend

Guest's-Eye View.

May 19, 2018 was the day I had waited for my whole life: Wedding Day.

Naturally, as someone with anxiety and OCD, I spent a lot of time leading up to the wedding worried about all of the things that could go wrong.  

Well, the Saturday of the wedding a lot of those worries came true and then some.  For example, it POURED after I decided that we should get married outside (because surely the rain would hold out).  The chuppah and multiple floral arrangements were completely destroyed and my hair had significantly fallen by the time of the service from the humidity.  During the ceremony, the rabbi read the wrong traditional vows (not the ones we had chosen) and a baby babbled throughout, distracting me from our personalized vows.  The cake looked nothing like the picture, and the DJ started our choreographed dance before we were ready so we started off balance. 

But guess what?  Even though many of my fears were realized, it was still a perfect weekend.

I am not going to lie to you and say that I did not get upset when some of these things occurred.  I felt so many things that weekend...  Happiness.  Nostalgia.  Lucky. Angry.  Amused.  Sad.  Overwhelmed.  Excited. Grateful.  Anxious.  

But the overarching feeling was love: love for Nathan, love for family, and love for friends.  Even as the blunders piled up, nothing could ultimately overtake the overwhelming joy at the significance of the day.

My OCD and anxiety crept in of course, especially on Sunday.  My anxious brain was doing what it normally does and I found myself very focused on the negative.  I was frustrated and angry at myself for choices I had made that caused problems (like not calling for an indoor ceremony).  I was also feeling guilt and self-loathing at the anger and frustration I had experienced on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.  

My sister Linda (the maid of honor) really helped calm me down.  With OCD, it is common to judge and doubt yourself for your thoughts and feelings.  She reminded me that my feelings were all very natural and that overall the day was wonderful.  She suggested that I make a list of all the fun, wonderful details from the day so that I would not forget them.  

Watching the Royal Wedding early in the morning with my Mom, sister, and bridesmaid Katie... Being surprised by morning chocolate strawberries Nathan sent to the suite... eating chicken nuggets with my bridesmaids while we were all in curlers getting ready at the hotel... entering the ceremony with my dad and seeing everyone I love watching me walk down the aisle... Nathan and I getting our footing back and nailing our tango... Dancing with my sorority sisters.... Eating cake back in the suite with Nathan after the party.  All of these moments are mine forever.  (I also got some fun details I had missed by asking friends and relatives to share their favorite moments with me.  I recommend all brides collect their own lists!)

Nathan with his new wife, bro-in-law, and sis-in-law.

I pulled myself together ultimately, and that Sunday afternoon was a continuation of a wonderful weekend.  My family, Nathan and I got dressed up again and my bridesmaid Megan took family pictures of us with our dog Gus.  Then, Megan continued to lead mom, Nathan and I on a photoshoot around Cleveland in the perfect Sunday weather.  We captured a lot of photos we never would have gotten otherwise, including shots on the rocks in Lake Erie (Now that the wedding was over, I did not have to worry about the dress getting wet!).

The spot we said our vows on Pearl Island.

In terms of the rabbi reading the wrong vows, Linda also came up with the great idea of privately reading our chosen traditional vows to each other while we were on our honeymoon in the Bahamas.  We made our intended promises on top of a lighthouse on Pearl Island in Nassau... a spot so perfect, another young man proposed to his girlfriend up there that same day. 




My advice to anxious brides is to remember that when the people you love are there, nothing can ruin your wedding.  Enjoy every second of your wedding weekend.  Love is the ultimate triumph.  When you are marrying the right person, you get your fairytale.  The logistics of the weekend will work out.  

Focus on the positive and remember that some of those "errors" can ultimately lead to more beautiful memories.  After all, if the rabbi had not read the wrong vows, we never would have had our moment on top of the lighthouse.

Bridal Neuroticism

No veil can hold back all these feelings.

My wedding is less than two weeks away, and I am in a feeling frenzy.

By this I mean that I am experiencing all of the feelings.  All of them.

My new therapist said from our first meeting that she hates weddings because they cause so much stress and conflict.  I have been lucky in that my mom has taken on most of this stress through planning the rehearsal dinner, wedding, and out-of-towner brunch.  We haven't faced any crazy levels of conflict either... but a wedding is a wedding.

Nobody can save me from the emotional significance of my wedding day.

My anxiety disorder has compounded with the natural anxiety of being a bride. This has lead to an experience of intense volatility, and I am moving through the whole gamut of human emotions hour by hour: from elation, to despair, to anger, to amusement, to frustration, to excitement, to irritation, to anxiety, to contentment.  It is not about cold feet or doubt as to whether the marriage is the right thing; it is like marriage has initiated some kind of emotional existential crisis.

My thought processes move like this:

It will be lovely to move into a new house with my new husband.
I NEVER GET TO LIVE AT MY HOME WITH MY FAMILY AGAIN.

We get to really start building our own family!
WHAT IF I CAN NEVER GET PREGNANT?

I love my fiancé, he is so handsome and kind.
WHY IS HE SLEEPING?! I NEED TO TALK TO HIM! HOW COULD HE DO THIS?

My fiancé and I get to spend the rest of our lives together.
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE DIE? 

I can't wait for my wedding!
THIS IS THE LAST TIME ALL YOUR FRIENDS WILL BE TOGETHER.

I wish I could stay focused on the positive and joyful pieces of the now, but when you have anxiety, the darker thoughts always find a way to mix in somehow.  You are often worried about the future or upset about the past.  Having OCD can make this hard as well, as thoughts that you don't want to have seem to stick the worst.  Therapists will recommend mindfulness techniques, but it can be very hard not to get caught up in your fears.

Now, I am the first to admit that a high level of irrationality has taken hold. This was proven to me the other day when I called the auto-body shop to cancel an appointment.  I was mid-major crying breakdown as I dialed (functional even mid-frenzy).  I was so hysterical on the phone that the worker let me know that I could still come there if I needed to talk to someone.  You know you have reached maximum-crazy-woman-potential when the man at the car shop is offering you emotional support.

I have strong logic skills, so my irrationality is always interestingly tempered by some understanding that I'm being irrational.  For example, yesterday when we went to get our Ketubah (the Jewish marriage contract) framed, the woman was curt and dismissive of us, and I was very perturbed. I refused to go anywhere else that day to handle the errand.  

I was irrationally upset, and all I wanted to do was call customer service and rant, but I also didn't want anyone to lose their jobs or be punished.  I mean, this woman was probably being paid minimum wage which isn't enough to care about anything really.  I realized the call would be useless, consisting of me saying that I was wronged but refusing to say when or by who.  

I played out what I would say in my head, but I never called. I took a nap instead.  Lucky for Michael's customer service line, I am not good at lashing out.  Truthfully, I think the world would be a much happier place if more people took naps instead of calling customer service.

After that nap, I woke up and through the rest of the day and night continued to move up and down through the emotions.  Today has been exactly the same.  It's fascinating to experience (if understandably somewhat frightening to spectators).  I'm just trying to move through and hopefully not cause too much collateral damage. 

The wedding is now 11 days away.  I'm lucky enough to get to marry the man of my dreams, and if it takes an emotional rollercoaster to get to the alter... at this point I just need to laugh and enjoy the ride.  Getting to have him as my husband at the end of the day will be the ultimate triumph.

When You Have to Fight Your Nature

Gus's nature? Take the burger. 
No regrets. No remorse.

We all have natural inclinations that we should fight against for our own good.  

These demons come in many different forms.  If you have OCD, one of yours may be naturally seeking out reassurance to combat self-doubt.  If you have anxiety, you may naturally jump to the worst conclusion in every situation. 

Whatever your demons are, building character involves the difficult process of learning to combat these internal signals to craft a better self.

With this in mind, I have realized that my dog, Gus, is honestly one of the most noble creatures I know.

Those who have met Gus or have heard of his antics may be surprised by this.  Gus has bitten 3 of the 4 members of my bridal party.  Gus snarls, guards his food, and barks at strangers. He has seen a behavioral therapist for his anxiety and paranoia, resulting in a regimen of anti-anxiety medication, and he still gets very ornery.

But Gus is growing.  This morning, I went to give him his kiss goodbye and I got snarled at.  I knew to back away, and I went to sit on a nearby chair where I knew I would not come across as threatening. Gus followed me, did some light angry nibbles on my hand, and then, still slightly snarling, jumped up on me for a hug.  

I was moved.

Some of you may read this and wonder how I could possibly view this as positive.  Here's the thing: Gus showed restraint.  You could tell that he was really trying to be good...  The mismatch of his snarls and his cuddles revealed the internal struggle between his natural inclination to attack vs. his desire to show love and not hurt his loved ones.

Now, you may accuse me of anthropomorphism, but I think this experience really highlights something important about judging human behavior.  Certain instincts vary from individual to individual, and how impressive it is for someone to abstain from a behavior really depends on that specific person's natural inclinations toward that behavior.  

Anger is a solid example.  Most people don't bite, but a lot of them yell.  Personally, I rarely have outbursts where I scream at the target of my rage. However, I know that there are people who really struggle not to snap at others whenever they are frustrated.  In my opinion, when those people don't yell at someone, it is much more admirable than when I do not yell at someone.

Another way to think about it? Imagine fresh, hot french fries.  There may be two people who decline to eat them, but if one of those people hates the taste of french fries, their act of restraint just isn't as commendable or meaningful.

Trying to fight our negative instincts is the only way we can stop them from controlling our lives.  Even small steps matter.  If you have an OCD fear of germs and manage to ignore your compulsion to wash your hands an extra time? You have fought a harmful instinct.  If your depression tells you to stay in bed all day, but you get up anyway? You have fought a harmful instinct.  If your eating disorder tells you to binge, but you stop after one plate? You have fought a harmful instinct.

Don't fall into the trap of thinking comparable actions require comparable strengths of character.  Context matters.  Evolving and becoming stronger means that you have to appreciate these little victories in your unique journey.  

Congratulate yourself on the small improvements.  The little actions add up.

This is how we grow.  This is how we triumph.

New Year, New Me - BC Pill Free!

Me: "I want to do a blog post, but I don't have a picture"
Fiancé:  "Use a picture of me!"

Back in May, I did a blog post about my experience on the pill. Since then, I had actually settled in nicely to my new pill that had three weeks of the same level of hormones.

Things were good and steady, so that was when my insurance decided it was time for a change.

Without consulting my doctor, the insurance company decided that all birth control pills were created equal and therefore I should be switched to the cheapest one.

The problem here is that the cheapest one was completely different.  It cycles through three levels of hormones instead of keeping me on one steady level.  During the first pack, I had my period for 2.5 weeks after it was supposed to end.  I also turned very mentally unstable.

I was constantly frustrated and depressed through mid-December.  There was a lot of anger and crying.  I cried in the grocery store aisle when a box of Frosted Flakes reminded me of my dad (a man who is still alive and well.)  I cried once again at the end of Titanic (a movie I have seen 5,000 times.  It really is a beautiful film though.)  The depression and anxiety was overwhelming.

I called the doctor, but the doctor's office didn't pick up the phone and there was nowhere to leave a message.  Mom said I was being too impatient and hanging up too early, so I called back, put the phone on speaker, and let her listen to it ring from the dining room table until she acquiesced that they were indeed not answering.

It took a few more weeks before I tried back.  Why?  Because even picking up the phone seemed overwhelming.  Every little task felt frustrating at the time.  

The good news is, they did pick up.  My doctor called me back and I told her I wanted off of these things for good.  I was right at the end of a monthly pack, and she said I could just stop.

I had read that the side effects of going off the pill could be interesting and somewhat negative.  I've been lucky so far: I have been BC pill free for about two weeks now, and I feel great!   

Ultimately, the side effects were not worth it for me.  I'm excited to fully return to my natural hormonal balance.  There are other ways, and BC is a personal decision for everyone.  I've talked to other female friends who decided to get off the pill, or change which pill they take, for the same reason.  I have other friends who are fine on the pill.

Going through this process made me realize that freedom from the pill is the best decision for my mental health.  Stepping into 2018, this is a triumph for me, and I encourage other women to consider all of their options.  Rather than just sticking with what your friends do, or what you feel you can "deal with", make the best choice for your own wellbeing.  You're worth it girl.  Let's make this our best year yet!

Negative Nancy

Gus being a moper.

For those who know me, you would probably identify me as a very positive person.  I'm extraverted, enthusiastic, and generally upbeat. If you come to me with a problem, I am more than happy to reassure you that everything is going to be okay.

You are great.  Whatever happened may be difficult, but you have the strength to get through it.  Nothing catastrophic is going to happen.  Your worries are overblown! Don't be silly.

But for some reason, I can't give myself the same positive outlook that I so easily give to my family, friends, acquaintances... hell, even strangers.

The tragedy is, if the situation involves me, then I always jump to the worst, most negative conclusions possible and assume that they are probably right.  It's like pessimism, but only self-directed, and with more enthusiasm!  Like, I picture a pessimist saying, "The worst outcome is going to happen. Oh well."  Instead I'm like, " THE WORST OUTCOME IS GOING TO HAPPEN.  PANIC MODE."

Take for instance this past weekend: I was finishing the last sessions of an "ACT Bootcamp" for high schoolers.  It was basically a two-day weekend review of what to expect on the college entrance exam and strategies to help them learn how to attack it, study effectively, and figure out what scores to aim for. 

In case you haven't been around high schoolers in a while, please let me remind you that they are terrifying.  Trying to reach them and gain their respect is hard for anyone, and taking up their weekend with information many of them don't process as relevant is a hard angle to work.

That being said, at the end of the class, I handed out surveys.  I want to learn what works and what doesn't.  I want to see if what I did was actually helpful.

Most of the surveys came back positive, saying thanks and identifying that the class helped them feel better prepared.  Some actually didn't identify a part of the class that they considered to be "least helpful," and most of the criticism was constructive. 

But there were a few that were all negative.  For example, a student who circled "No" that he did not feel better prepared after the class, said the most helpful part of this class was "the book,"  the least helpful part was "the lectures" and in other comments said "None".  Another student who circled "No" that he did not feel better prepared after the class actually wrote a number of lewd comments, one of the tamer of which was "I didn't find it helpful eccept (sic) for dat ASS!"

After reading over the surveys, I immediately fixated on the negative ones. What if everyone felt like this was a waste of their time and money?  Had I done a bad job?  Was it my fault that certain kids were loud, disinterested, and distracting?  Could I have been more engaging?  Were my strategies useless? Was I just a joke to these kids?  What if I wasn't invited back next year?  

Negative self-talk is a huge problem with anxiety and OCD, and I am the queen of it.  It's no surprise that seeing some negative survey results caused me to catastrophize.  I give other people the benefit of the doubt and see their problems with a level-head, but as soon as I am faced with an issue myself I can no longer hear that reasonable voice that says, "It's going to be okay."

Months and months ago, perhaps even years ago, my therapist gave me a list of questions to challenge these kinds of thoughts, but I still always seem to go down the route of doom and gloom.  Anything negative sent my way is immediately put under a microscope, and then amplified until it drowns out the positive.

Still, I know I have to keep challenging.  I guess it is funny to think about the opposite scenario:  What if I had gotten mostly negative reviews from the surveys, and then picked out the few positive ones and concluded that I was the best educator alive?  It's easy to see how out of touch with reality that would be.  

Framing it the opposite way helps show me how ridiculous I'm being.  But I'd be lying if I said that is where my mind goes first.  The thing is, you have to learn not to always follow your mind down the rabbit hole.  Try to take things out of the perspective of anxiety and see them another way.  You can triumph over your inner-"Negative Nancy".

Engaged!

I haven't updated in awhile, but that's because things have been very hectic over here.  The good kind of hectic, the ultimate triumph: On August 10th, my boyfriend asked me to marry him.

Dating is rough.  There’s a delicate balance as you get to know someone new… What stories can I reveal on a first date? When is it appropriate to share what memories? Will this person accept me when I reveal who I really am? 

Everyone struggles with these questions, but adding OCD into the mix can take this struggle to the next level. 

The intrusive thoughts that come with OCD are excruciatingly painful to live with and can be even harder to share, especially with a romantic partner. Whether it is the worry that you are a rapist, a murderer, a child molester, a creep, or a fraud… The person with OCD often has difficulty understanding that these thoughts are OCD related and have no basis in reality, so it can seem virtually impossible to communicate that to someone else.  When you want a man to see you as desirable and lovable, the last thing you picture saying while looking into his dreamy bedroom eyes is, “I used to have to avoid knives because I thought if I got too close I was going to stab myself.”

I remember the first time I shared my worst OCD fears with a boyfriend: I was 18 and he was 23. I told him because I felt like he had a right to know how messed up I was.  I laid it out, prepared for him to be disgusted and never look at me the same way again.  Prepared for him to leave.  At the time, I didn’t even want to live with myself, so why would any man ever want to be with me? 

What happened was the opposite of what I expected.  He listened and made a real effort to understand.  He even shared some of his scariest thoughts with me.  Intrusive thoughts may not plague everybody the same way, but they occasionally happen to almost everyone.  My boyfriend didn’t have OCD, but he didn’t have to in order to be empathetic and accepting.  He really loved me and that was enough.

That was 10 years ago.  Since then, I have gone on dates with many different men and even developed close enough love with two of them to share everything.  

Like most things in relationships, it ultimately comes down to trust. Are there men who wouldn’t have understood or even tried?  Absolutely.  Are there men who would’ve made me feel like a freak?  I’m sure.  But what I realized after that first experience was that there are people out there who can understand and who will love me, the real me, OCD and all.

My fiancé's reaction was to do research.  He asked me questions.  He shared where he could relate and admitted where he couldn’t.  He's supportive, loving and understanding of the struggles that I face and accepts them without judgement.

What we have is open and honest and real.  We are free, and we are stronger because of it.  What I would recommend to anyone with OCD is to hold out for the same.  

You're worth it, and it's worth waiting for.  

Reach for Your Dreams, OCD or Not

A beautiful day to ignore OCD 

For those who know me, it will come as no surprise that one of my aspirations in life was to work as a golf cart girl.  Spending the day in the sun, bouncing around in a golf car, handing out beer, with everyone happy to see you... What could be better?

Well my friends, last Saturday I had the opportunity to live that fantasy and I knew that I had to seize the day.  Only one problem: I'm OCD with money.

For those of you who are not OCD with money, or are OCD with money in their own way, let me explain what I mean.  I am terrified of stealing.  Petrified.  I tend to count and recount.  I doubt my numbers and even my honesty.  I worry that I took tips that I wasn't supposed to take or somehow cheated the employer or the customer.  I never feel safe around money, and my anxiety around cash is extremely high.  This fear and anxiety actually gave me the compulsion to give back a ton of tips at my old bartending job.  I would sneak them back into the cash register. I eventually quit because it was so overwhelming.

Knowing that I was going to deal with money at this event made me very nervous.  But I wasn't going to let OCD get in the way of my little golf cart girl dreams.  So I went anyway.

Did I worry about counting? Yes.  Did I worry about stealing?  Yes.  It was especially bad at one point when I pulled out my wallet to make change for a $20.  I handed the change over and took the $20 and put it in my wallet.

Sounds simple, right? But my OCD was only focused on the act of putting that $20 in the wallet.  

OCD doesn't care about context or reality.  OCD was just saying "Did you steal that $20?  I can remember you taking a $20 from a customer and putting it in your wallet."

But I wouldn't let myself get caught up in an argument with my OCD.  I said NO.  Not today, buddy. I moved on.  

I had a fantastic day and even made a little money.  I kept my tips and didn't return them.  I'm glad that I didn't let my OCD fears prevent me from taking the gig, because I would have missed out on a wonderful time.  

Sometimes you just have to put through.  Don't let OCD take your dreams away.  You are capable of triumph.